


Guiltless

by Wheely_Jessi



Series: Song Shots [5]
Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Bad Parenting, Birthdays, Childhood, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, F/F, Gen, High School, I can't help it I get really inspired by songs and they won't leave me alone until I write the fic, Parent-Child Relationship, Pre-Canon, Songfic, Supportive Teachers, Teenage Drama, This has been brewing a while, This song gave me feels the first time I heard it and I tried to ignore them but, surrogate parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:00:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23911942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wheely_Jessi/pseuds/Wheely_Jessi
Summary: A pre-canon oneshot (set in January 1949), inspired by dodie's songGuiltless.'There is a wall in my life built by you / You opened a door that a kid shouldn't walk through'Patsy is away at school, and just before her sixteenth birthday is asked to go to Mother Gertrude's office, where she is given a telegram from her father. Mild drama ensues.
Relationships: Delia Busby & Patsy Mount, Delia Busby/Patsy Mount, Patsy Mount & Mother Gertrude, Patsy Mount & Patsy Mount's Father
Series: Song Shots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1037367
Kudos: 10





	Guiltless

**Author's Note:**

> Song and lyrics are here: https://youtu.be/GREpv2WDIbM, but I'd also recommend watching the music video, because it's great: https://youtu.be/xYq4mlNiDTg
> 
> So, um, I've had this in my head for ages (both the song and the fic!) and started it some time ago. But I've only just managed to finish it. So I'm posting it today to celebrate the proper end of my PhD process, after six months working on the corrections to my thesis required after my defence exam. Because a) a significant aspect of my PhD was on _Call the Midwife_ and b) today pretty much marks the end of my time as a student of any kind (except for graduation, but who knows when that will happen now!).
> 
> I'll post updates to other things, too, and more frequently, but I need a rest...so thought I'd share this in the interim.

On Monday the twenty-fourth of January nineteen forty-nine, as she found her way through the labyrinthine corridors of La Sainte Union Catholic Secondary School to meet with Mother Gertrude in her office, Patience Elizabeth Mount was dragging her feet. The Headmistress had assured her at breakfast she was not in any trouble whatsoever, but that somehow made the summons worse. The Sisters, and other people like them in positions of authority, often used similar phrases to soften the blow of bad news. And Patience, or Patsy to her one or two friends, had had more than her fair share of that sort of communication. Not that she made it known if she could help it. Quite the opposite actually. It all felt so tiring sometimes that she bored _herself_ with it, so why on earth would she bother anyone _else_? But that rhetorical question did nothing to assuage the palpable sense of dread swirling in the fifteen-year-old’s stomach, so she decided to act closer to her age and walk the rest of the route with purpose.

That way she would hardly notice how quickly Mother Gertrude’s door was answered when she knocked.

The superior nun noticed her _nervousness_ and got right to the point. ‘This telegram arrived this morning,’ she said simply, passing over a piece of paper as soon as she received the blonde girl’s nod.

Patsy read the sparsely worded message – PATSY STOP CANNOT MAKE YOUR SIXTEENTH SORRY STOP LOVE PAPA – and was powerless to prevent the audible groan which was an entirely inappropriate reaction in such company.

However, to the teenager’s surprise, Gertrude tutted in sympathy rather than admonishment. ‘My sentiments exactly,’ she said, her tone softer than Patsy had ever heard. ‘It’s hardly a fair strategy, because the means of communication render retaliation impossible.’

The Headmistress now hummed in approval as the adolescent girl’s unbidden groan was followed by an unbidden _giggle_. She knew _Patsy_ knew this comment had two contexts – one of this current conversation and another of their three-and-a-bit years’ worth of clashes in the field of fencing – and hoped the humour would help with the utterly understandable hurt she was watching her trying to hide so valiantly.

‘But Mother,’ came the beginning of a resigned reply, ‘he hasn’t made _any_ of them since I started here, so it’s not as though I should be surprised.’

‘I know,’ the nun begrudgingly agreed, her wimple wobbling with indecision as she ended up somewhere between a nod and a shake, ‘and far be it from me to question a parent’s prerogative, except in extenuating circumstances. But this _is_ an extenuating circumstance. I may be a Mother in name only – a rather ridiculous one at that, too, if the rumours about my reputation among the students in this school have any truth to them – but I do take my duty of care seriously, whether in regards to my colleagues or my pupils. Consequently, in my combined professional and personal opinion, he could at least have done you the courtesy of calling.’

Patsy felt her pale cheeks getting hot (and likely pink) at this kindness, so sought to deflect by suggesting a flaw in this solution. ‘The time difference makes telephoning difficult –’

‘Oh tosh,’ Gertrude interrupted indignantly. ‘If anything, the Far East being eight hours ahead makes it easier. I could comprehend _your_ wariness about waking your father up if you telephoned at one of the suitable times as stated in our rules, but _he_ has no such strictures. Besides, the rules are different on that score for overseas boarders, as well you know,’ she finished with a wink.

‘I suppose I do,’ the girl said, summoning a small grin, and suddenly feeling significantly taller than she had on her walk there. ‘But it’s nearly nine o’clock, which means it’s time for class.’

‘It’s nearly nine o’clock, which means your father will be reaching the end of his workday,’ the nun corrected gently.

‘Oh! Of course!’ The blonde’s brows shot up, her blue eyes growing round at the realisation of what was being offered. A chance (if not to retaliate, since she was too reticent for that) at least to rationalise both of their responses. She still needed reassurance, though, and sought it by way of a direct question. ‘Am I allowed?’

‘Absolutely.’ Gertrude was almost too emotional to sound sufficiently sincere, but she steeled herself and her voice. ‘Consider it an early birthday gift.’

Patsy protested that immediately. ‘No, Mother! You must take the cost from my termly allowance. It isn’t as if I’m using it for anything else, and that way Papa will really be paying for it, which feels rather fitting.’

Both teacher and pupil took secret delight in the latter’s sarcastic tone and, although neither showed it, they each also contemplated proposing that Patsy require the charges to be reversed. Instead, the nun merely gave a silent nod, and her student stepped to start the call, going through the motions and eventually getting to request the long distance number she had often rehearsed but rarely used. Thankfully the transition was a smooth one, and the operator kind, so there was not too much trouble connecting; even if she did inwardly curse the continued reliance on a public switchboard, and then herself for having such a privileged frustration.

When it at last rang through and whoever his current housekeeper was answered with “Mount residence” (which had been such a reliable refrain in the rhythm of their childhood that she and Grace had made games out of pretending to call each other), though, she found any earlier daring had deserted her. The most she could muster was to mumble ‘It’s Patsy, is Papa home?’ All the while wishing she could melt into the polished floor of Mother Gertrude’s office with the mortification she felt for having used his nickname to someone who was, essentially, a stranger.

She was therefore relieved to hear not the slightest hint of hesitation in the housekeeper’s now warm voice. ‘Hello, Patsy, I’m Susan. He is indeed; I’ll put you through to his office right away.’

‘Thank you,’ she said reflexively, despite it being this woman’s professional duty to do just that. Except, Patsy pondered (as she waited once again for the connection to go through), perhaps it was not. Since, really, Susan ought to have enquired if her employer was happy to take the call. But then, perhaps that was the point. She was astute enough to be aware of the answer should she ask. So she had not. Gosh, the fifteen-year-old thought with an internal, childish, chuckle, her father would be furious when she – ‘Hello, Papa,’ she said timidly as he at last picked up, ‘it’s Patsy.’

‘Hello, old thing,’ she heard him drawl over the crackling line, surprised at the soft tone of his voice, and slightly annoyed by how her heart felt lighter at the sound of the familiar nickname. ‘I gather you got my telegram, then?’

‘I did, yes.’

‘As we shan’t see each other on Saturday, thank Mother Gertrude for letting you call. I hoped she would.’

His daughter bristled at the realisation that this had been his ruse all along. ‘You could always telephone yourself, you know,’ she reminded a little petulantly. ‘Any time you like. The rules are different for overseas boarders,’ she added, grinning at her Headmistress as the nun nodded in approval.

‘Are you cross?’ Charles asked; bewildered by the belligerence of the girl he still pictured most vividly as a baby with bouncy blonde curls.

‘No,’ Patsy answered honestly, ‘just sad. It’s my sixteenth. You _promised_ , Papa. But I shouldn’t care,’ she went on, apparently unable to stop now she had started, ‘because you’ve done this every year.’

‘I wish you were here with me,’ she heard him say, and he seemed sincere. But it was far from the apology he owed.

Her voice cracked, tears suddenly springing to her eyes. ‘If that’s true,’ she started, speaking slowly to hold back sobs, ‘why did you send me away?’

‘Because I love you.’

Any sobs vanished at this statement. She could not believe _he_ believed he had acted out of benevolence. He really thought he was in the right. ‘No, Papa,’ she said softly, ‘that’s not how it works.’

Charles was cowed by her calm response, and became brusque. ‘Well, it’s not as though I can fetch you, is it?’

Patsy pursed her lips to quell a harsh laugh. ‘No,’ she agreed, ‘but it’s quite all right, I don’t need fetching. In fact, I’m not sure I want to rearrange our visit. I’m managing just fine on my own. I’ve had to.’

‘Patsy –’

‘No, Papa. You called me “Patience”, after all, and I’d say sixteen is as good an age as any to start embodying my namesake virtue.’

Charles found himself chuckling despite the situation – and regardless of the effect he knew it would have on her. ‘I gave you your _nickname_ , too.’

‘Well you don’t get to use it any more,’ she spat back, aware that, if she could see her expression, it would be sullen.

‘You _are_ cross,’ Charles said softly.

‘You needn’t sound so triumphant,’ she answered immediately, ‘you used to get quiet like that whenever you knew you’d won an argument with Mama.’

He hummed, holding back a further chuckle. ‘So I’ve won then?’

‘I’m just so tired of trying to convince you you’ve been in the wrong.’ The truth was out before she could stop it, so she instead attempted to soften things. Slightly at least. ‘I know it’s not really your fault, but it hurts, and I hate it. And I don’t want it to make me hate you. So I think it’s best if I make the next plan when I feel up to it.’ She paused briefly, her eyes flicking to the clock. ‘And I’m sorry, I have class now. I love you, but I have to go.’

Like you did, she thought darkly as she fixed Mother Gertrude with an insistent stare until she took the phone. ‘I’m sorry Mr Mount,’ the nun said with an exaggerated sigh and a wink, ‘but you know how studious she is. It took quite some persuasion to get her to telephone. But I dare say you could write.’

The fifteen-year-old stared – that was a comment so cutting it was worthy of one of the school bullies – and then scarpered to lessons as soon as she received a nod.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope I got the tone right (my worry with all my fics, hehe). I wanted it to be realistic but not too rough to read. This scenario is essentially my take on some of the background to Patsy's comment in 6.2 that she 'closed her heart' to Mr Mount, because it seems like she had at least a bit of agency. Thoughts? Also I tagged it as to do with her relationship with Delia because of one line of foreshadowing.
> 
> Stay safe, stay home (if you can!) and stay well <3


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